Page 9 of The Photo
I walk to college, which is a good half an hour of power walking, and repeatedly hit the button on my phone to waken the screen.
I sag in the seat beside Chelsea and look at my phone for one last time before putting it away.
Nothing.
Lightning never strikes twice.
I will never hear from Noah again.
“I’ve got great news!” Mr. Potato Head rubs his hands together gleefully, and that grin makes me want to grate his head into slices just to remove his cheery demeanor. I’m not in the mood for his unusual zesty charisma today of all days. “Some of you are going on a trip to a photography convention. I got word today that it's being funded by the college, but there’s only enough money in the budget to take three students.” The entire class whoops and cheers with anticipation. This is the best news. I’m so nervous, biting the sides of my fingers as he calls out the first student’s name. “Chelsea, congratulations.”
She screams, lifts her hand to give me a high five and then changes her mind because my name hasn't been called. I grab the sleeve of her shirt and pull her arm into my chest, hugging it close, all the while waiting impatiently for the next name.
“Next up—Sam, congratulations, big guy.” My heart stills in the chaos. There’s only one more name.
“And to conclude, this photograph was one of my favorites.” He pauses, waving fists in the air and rolling his tongue to imitate an annoying drumroll. I remember his comment about getting mine framed, but he never gave me extra points or a big star for the mid-term report.
“Rowan! Congratulations!”
My chair scrapes back, bashing into the desk behind me. Chelsea grabs my hands, and we bounce in tandem.
“Where are we going?” Sam calls out over the chatter.
“Ontario, Canada.” Mr. Potato Head fist pumps the air.
“Really?” I stop moving, revolving my head around in shock. “We’re going to Canada?” A prickle of possibilities showers down my spine.
“We leave in two days. I understand it’s very last minute. If anyone can’t go at short notice, let me know after class.”
“OMG, Noah lives in Ontario,” I say out loud, intending the statement to unfold inside my head. Now Chelsea is privy to my irrational thoughts.
“Sure, you’ll aimlessly bump into the Canadian male model you’ve been stalking for the past year, because Canada is that small. Next, you’ll expect to find the exact place where he drinks coffee.” She’s laughing, but I’ve already imagined the moment our eyes meet, and he recognizes me without fangs and a false wig.
“It’s a possibility, Chelsea.” I sound wistful. Then I remember his post from earlier. “Or, it would be if he wasn’t already in Rio.”
“The chances of you running into him are zero. You’ll have more luck finding a pot of gold at the bottom of that rainbow.” Her head nods to the window where a spectrum of pastel shades arc across the pale grey sky with a wondrous vibrance.
Rainbows have been a lucky charm lately, and perhaps this one suggests destiny.
Five
It’s nearly five in the evening. The sun looms behind the horizon on its slow descent. I’ve been on this shoot in Rio since I landed. They cordoned off a section of Ipanema Beach and erected a cabana where I could change swimwear and take a few breaks from the sun.
The flight was roughly thirteen hours in the sky, made easier by the flirty air stewardess with dimples. She was attentive and offered me extra blankets, bottled water and plenty of smiles.
I’d slept for a few hours of the journey and then endured a cheesy romcom film for the last hour and a half. The lead character had a familiar mouth, or so I thought, until I realized I was thinking of a certain stranger known to me now as Rowan.
I even browsed the photo she sent me, just to study those striking green eyes. When that picture popped up on my screen for the first time, I debated replying with a water splash emoji to signify I was ready to come in my trunks, because I was. Fuck, she’s naturally stunning. It’s her soft, sleepy smirk and messy hair that thickens my dick to erect.
While I lay on my reclining bed in first class, I chanted an inner plea.Please let this girl be different. Please don’t share my selfie photo.If she does, then it's game over. Only time will tell if she’s just another nobody bathing in my limelight.
There’s a darker side to me that wants to hunt her down and fuck her so hard, to take whatever it is she’s offering. I haven’t felt this way for a female in forever. Realistically, we’ll never hook up. The logistics aren’t on my side.
What woman thinks about a guy’s belly button fluff?If I wasn’t visualizing her silky tongue running along my abs and enjoying my dick swell to solid, I’d be freaked out. But that’s just it, she doesn’t freak me out. Rowan Hudson intrigues me.
I’m shocked at how one woman has set fire to the barriers I’ve built around my life. She’s scaling the heights of my mind.
Now sitting on the white sand, I gaze over at the sunset, thinking of the people I’ve met and the shitty lessons I’ve learned along the way. I have to admit, as I sit here thinking about life, I consciously decide it would be nice to share it with someone else other than Alexa. Perhaps that’s what’s missing from this picture. This strange sensation in my bones could mean I’m ready to settle down.
